Memories of Tomorrow
by estrafalaria103
Summary: One minute Sam Evans is living his normal life in Lima: the next, he's being chased through the woods by Them. Suddenly he's thrust into a world where being special gets you killed, where being unnoticed is best. Klaine/Finchel/Quam/Quick/Brittana/Artina
1. Chapter 1

13:57

**A/N: Back to the glorious world of AU and post-apocalyptic settings. This time, with a little more mystery! Anyway, if you've read my other stories, you know how it goes. . .Sam/Finn/Jesse = comic relief, Blaine/Kurt/Quinn = angst. This story, however, will include Lauren (she doesn't die right away!) Mercedes, Artie, etc. etc. a lot more, since I've finally learned how to manage large casts of characters! Yay! **

It's a joke. It has to be a joke. Or a bad dream. Yeah, that could be it, a really bad dream, and if he pinches himself, he'll wake up.

Ow. Well, that didn't work.

Maybe he's hallucinating. Maybe it's all in his head and. . .

He ducks under a tree branch, and thinks that maybe it wasn't the best idea to run _away_ from city. Not that anybody had been willing to help him. He'd been running down the middle of the street, screaming, and nobody had lifted a hand. He'd seen them, ducking down below in the windows in their cars, pulling blinds shut in their houses, yelling at their kids to come inside. No, it had been made quite clear that he was on his own.

His breath was coming hard and fast now, and black spots were dancing in his eyes. His side burned, but he couldn't stop. He'd never been so thankful for those years playing football, or the fact that he loved to sing in the shower. Those three a days that he'd always bitched about. . .never mind, Coach, totally an awesome idea.

There's a little spring in front of him. It's tiny, really, and he thinks he can jump over it. That'll be good. A stroke of luck, really, because don't They hate water? Maybe it'll be enough to get Them off his back. . .

He hears another low growl from behind him. One of his shoelaces is untied. The creek is coming up, though. It's like an oasis in the desert, he just _knows_ that if he can get over it, he'll be okay. If he can get over it, he can. . .

Oh, who's he kidding? Even if They stop for the night, he doesn't have anyone to run to. He's been Marked. Even his own parents won't let him back in. His little brother and sister will run away from him. He doesn't think that he can stand to see the terror on their faces.

It's here, now. A deep breath. One, two. . .

_Fucking shoelace_.

He's skidding down the bank, losing traction. He grabs for a bush, a root, anything to slow his descent. He's not afraid of being hurt. . .it really is a tiny stream, really, and a tiny embankment. . .but he needs to get back on his feet, he needs to keep running. . .

The crashing in the undergrowth has stopped. The growling hasn't.

He skids to a stop, finally, mud smeared across his hands and pants. He struggles to his feet, eyes the other side. There's a sharp pain in his ankle and he can't catch his breath. The black spots have been joined by a weird black border all around the edges of his vision. He tries to take a step, but his ankle won't hold him, and he teeters to the ground.

Oh, God, he thinks. Please not here, not like this. He closes his eyes. He's no hero. . .he's never seen one of Them, and he really doesn't want to. He'll just die with dignity.

"Take my hand."

The voice is low, hissed, almost angry sounding. But it's _human_. Sam's eyes jerk open, and he takes in the first deep breath he can remember taking in a long, long time. He'd thought the voice was human, but he's staring at an angel.

"_Tilor_," he whispers. The angle blinks at him, and he almost cries when those beautiful hazel eyes disappear for just a second.

"Just take my hand," she hisses again.

"_Nga yawne lu oer_," he says dumbly, because apparently angels reduce him to speaking only in Na'vi. He does, however, take her hand. The minute her fingers close around his wrist he feels a strange tingle, almost like brushing his fingers against an ice cube.

Then. . .silence.

He turns around. There's a little murmur, as the angel is whispering into her wrist, but that's it. The crickets aren't chirping. The leaves aren't rustling in the wind. The brook isn't even making any sound. Wait a second. . .

Sam stares down at his feet. All of a sudden he's back to hyperventilating, because _the water isn't moving_.

If he were more of a hero, he would quietly freak out.

He's not a hero, so the freak-out isn't all that quiet.

"Shut. Up."

The angel's talking, so he shuts up, until he realizes that. . .

_The water isn't moving_. Freak-out take two. The angel whispers something into her wrist again, before rolling her eyes. She reaches out two fingers, and touches them to Sam's head.

Everything goes black.

Xxx

He wakes up staring at a ceiling. He rolls his shoulders a little, and it's strange, because he feels fine. His legs kind of hurt, like he'd been running, or just had a three a day, or something. And there's a dull pain in his right ankle. And. . .

Wait, where is he? Because, now that he thinks about it, the last thing that he can remember is running through the woods being chased by one of Them. And regardless of where he actually is, one thing is for certain. He is inside.

Sam nods decisively. Yes, indeed. He is more definitely inside.

Inside where is the bigger question, because nothing really looks familiar. It's certainly not his house, or his old high school. It's kind of creepy, actually, the way everything is so startlingly white. Come to think of it. . .Sam glances down at himself and yes, sure enough, he's wearing a weird white bathrobe thing. He doesn't know what's creepier – that he's apparently wearing some kind of space-age dress, or that somebody dressed him while he was unconscious.

Yeah, probably the second one.

While he'd been pondering his new wardrobe, a door had slowly creaked open, so that when Sam finally looks up, he sees somebody new standing in his room. For a minute his heart leaps into his throat in the desperate hope that it's the angel that he only vaguely remembers, but then he actually _looks_ and. . .yeah, not an angel.

Instead, there's a freakishly tall boy standing there, about his own age, with short brown hair and brown eyes. He's not wearing a white dress. . .just a pair of jeans and a white polo. Totally unfair, Sam thinks.

"Oh, cool, you're awake," the new boy says enthusiastically. "Will will be pumped."

"Will will?" Sam asks curiously.

"No. . .Will'll. . .I mean. . .wait. . ." The boy seems absolutely flummoxed by whatever he's trying to say, and Sam finally realizes that he must be trying to say a name.

"Will who?"

"What?" the boy looks up at him again and grins. Sam feels a sudden urge to pat him on the head. The other boy walks forward, and thrusts out his hand.

"I'm Finn."

"Sam."

"Cool. It's going to be awesome having another guy around here," Finn does, indeed, seem overly enthusiastic about that. "I mean, Kurt's a guy, I guess, but it's not the same."

Sam is trying to keep up, but Finn isn't really leaving him many clues, and there certainly aren't any in this stark white room.

"Where. . .um. . .where am I?"

"In New Direction," Finn says, laughing a little. "It's Will's house, really, but it's ginormous. Way too big for just the six of us. Well, seven, now that you're joining us."

"Joining _who_?" Sam asks.

"The X Factor. You know. . ." Finn suddenly trails off, and his face screws up in an almost pained expression. "Oh. . .that's Will. I was supposed to take you straight there when you woke up. Shoot. Now I'm going to have to do chores."

Sam still has more questions, but he doesn't bother asking them. It's pretty clear that as cheerful as Finn is, he isn't going to be terribly helpful in figuring out what is going on. Still, he follows the other boy through the hallway, fully expecting to find himself in an aluminum spaceship, headed off to either Tattoine or Pandora, or something. Instead it seems to be a perfectly normal hallway, one that could belong in a hospital (or a prison, the unhelpful part of his brain says).

Finn's walking a little to fast for Sam's exhausted legs. He figures that he should probably ask for the other boy to slow down, but he's too busy gaping into the different rooms that they pass. They're all the same. . .plain white rooms, similar to the one he'd woken up in, and all similarly empty. He paused by one that's a little different. . .there's a Technicolor, zebra-striped blanket lying across the bed, and a massive sound system against one wall. He leans in, trying to see a bit more through the small window to the side of the door, but there's no way that he can angle himself to see any more. When he turns around again, Finn has disappeared.

"Aw, shoot," Sam says, but he's honestly not too upset. He figures that he should be more upset by all of this. . .the fact that he's in a strange place, where he doesn't know anyone. Then again, the previous night he'd been running for his life, so he figures this is just looking up.

As he's walking by a door that appears to open to the outside, he hears a clear voice singing. He pauses for a minute, just to listen to the voice. It's practically runs, evidently, trilling up and down like birdsong. A smile flits across his face. It's a beautiful voice, high and crystal clear. He thinks it must belong to his angel.

When he opens the door, however, he doesn't see the beautiful blond visage. Instead, a tall, thin boy turns to face him. The boy raises one delicate eyebrow.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Uh. . .yeah," Sam says, rubbing at the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. "I'm looking for a girl. . .blond, beautiful hazel eyes. . .she was just here, I heard her singing."

"Did you now?" the boy asks. His voice is high, for a boy, extremely droll. He looks Sam up and down, his gaze slow and exacting. It stays for a while on Sam's hair. His lips quirk a little. "You dye your hair?"

"What. . .no," Sam says, uncomfortably. He wonders how the other kid knew. "Anyway. . .have you seen her?"

"Who? Quinn?" the boy asks. Sam doesn't know how he's supposed to respond to that, since he doesn't know who Quinn is, but the boy seems to have lost interest in him. He just waves a hand. "I haven't seen him. Aren't you supposed to be talking to Will?"

"Oh. . .yeah. . ." Sam chuckles a little. "I. . .uh. . .kind of got lost." The boy laughs a little at that.

"It's not your fault. Let me guess. Will sent Finn to fetch you, didn't he?" The abashed look on Sam's face must be enough, because he just rolls his eyes. "Of course he did. All right, come with me, then."

Sam's feet are moving before he even has time to process what the boy says. Just as well, he figures. The boy, for some reason, looks a little upset.

"Sorry," he says, inexplicably. "Sometimes I forget about that. My name is Kurt, by the way."

"Oh, Finn told me about you!" Sam says. It's a little pleasing, to realize that there's at least one bit of information that he has at his disposal, that he remembers. "He said you're the only other guy here."

"Wow, Sam counted me with the guys," Kurt seems genuinely pleased with this. "Normally he considers me one just an honorary girl."

"Why would he do that?"

"Never mind."

Clearly Sam has said something wrong, because Kurt stops talking after that. He just continues leading the way through the mansion, and although Sam really just wants to peek in the different rooms, he finds his feet unerringly following Kurt, until finally they come to stand in front of a massive pair of industrial looking double doors. And suddenly, for the first time since waking up, Sam is scared.

There's something inside him, warning him that his life will change the minute he opens that door. Nothing will be the same. He's going to be asked to do things that he doesn't' want to do, to be someone he doesn't want to be. He turns around to ask Kurt, but Kurt doesn't' seem to have the answers. He's just standing there, a look of abject terror on his face. Sam gulps.

"Oh, there you are!"

There's a loud _thump!_ as Finn comes careening around the corner, skidding down the hallway, his arms akimbo. He crashes into one of the doors, grabs a handle desperately in an attempt to stay upright.

"I thought I lost you," Finn says. Kurt's face is back to normal now, no longer looking terrified, but wry and amused.

"You did," he says. Finn looks affronted.

"Did not! We just got separated for a bit. I got him here, after all, didn't I?"

"Yeah, because he had the good fortune to run into me," Kurt says. "Otherwise he'd be wandering all over the place. Wandering outside." Finn's eyes get a little big at that, and he vehemently shakes his head.

"No way. You wouldn't go outside, would you Sam?"

Before he can even answer, however, Kurt has lifted one finger. "Where do you think he _met_ me? For Barbra's sake, Finn, sometimes you are just so hopeless."

Sam still wants to know why he isn't supposed to go outside, and he still wants to know who this Will guy is, and, oh yeah, it would be nice to know _where he is_, but he never gets the chance to answer any of those questions. The double doors suddenly fly open, one hitting Finn directly in the face. A slender man walks out, his hair a mass of overly gelled curls. He has a massive mouth. Seriously. It might be bigger than Sam's.

"Where. . .oh, sorry, Finn. . .Kurt, where's Tina?"

"Really?" Kurt asks. "You're asking me? It's hardly my job to keep track of the girl."

"Right, right," the man says distractedly. "Listen, go grab Quinn. Apparently Artie just called up."

Kurt's face instantly drains of what little color it had. Even Finn, standing up shakily with one hand pressed to his nose, seems concerned. And the curly-haired guy is freaking out like it's his job. He cocks his head for a minute, and his lips start oving, though no words are coming out.

Sam gets that. Sometimes talking out loud helps him to understand things, too.

The man seems to jerk out of his daze, and nods again, before turning to Finn. "Right then. I'll find the girls. . .Finn, what happened to the new kid?"

"Uh, that would be me," Sam says, raising his hand. "My name's Sam. Sam I am. And I do not. . ." He's cut off before he can finish that line. Probably for the best.

"Right, nice to meet you," the man says, before instantly turning to Finn. "Look," he says. "Idol called, so you know this is a big deal. Take Sam down to Tina. . .she's in Command Central. We'll have a debriefing after I get back."

And then the man is off, dashing down the halls. Sam wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly ripped off his tweed vest to reveal a red S under his clothes. He's getting a definite superhero vibe from this whole place. Then again, he doesn't think he's ever heard of a superhero living in what appears to be a mental hospital.

"Well, that was Will," Finn says, obviously trying to be helpful. Delicately, he takes his fingers away from his nose and peers at them. "Hmm," he murmurs, and then glances at Sam. Faster than he can react, Sam suddenly finds himself staring up the taller boys' nostril. "Am I bleeding? I don't see any blood, but it kind of feels like I'm bleeding."

"Um. . ." Sam shakes his head. "No. I don't think so. I don't see any."

"Great," Finn says. And just like that, he's over his nonexistent injury. He grabs Sam by the shoulder, roughly steering him down the hallway. "Come on, let's go see Tina. She's. . .uh. . .she's really nice."

Now Sam knows the girl is going to be a disaster of epic proportions. She probably has three eyes or something, because Finn is pulling out the personality card. Still, things seem to be going okay, other than the fact that he still doesn't know where he is, so he's willing to follow the other boy around.

This time it doesn't take long. Will apparently likes to be nearby Command Central, whatever that is. Two doors down, Finn abruptly turns in to another of the completely generic, metal doors. Sam follows him in, not sure what to expect.

Okay, that's a total lie. He knows exactly what he's expecting. He's expecting a massive supercomputer, or at the very least a cool videogame a la Tron. Maybe one of those holographic screens from Star Wars. At the very least he wants a Cerebral hook-up, or some creepy Matrix drips. Instead, he finds himself standing in what seems to be a completely generic, high school computer lab. Filled with. . .gross. . ._Macs_. Not the new, sleek ones, either, but the gross, colored monstrosities from the 90s. He twitches a little, looking at them.

He's so fixated on the disgusting computers, in fact, that he doesn't even notice the little Asian girl hooking one of the computers up to a projector.

"Hey, Sam, this is Tina," Finn says, finally pulling his gaze forward. Well, Sam realizes, at least she isn't ugly. She's petite, with long black hair currently painting through with bright pink streaks. She glances up at him, and extends one hand. There are three skull rings on it.

"Nice to meet you," she says, and then goes right back to ignoring him.

"She's going to hook up the video feed for us," Finn explains. "So that we can watch all the action. Tina, do you want me to get the pop corn?"

"No," she responds, crawling out from beneath the desk. She flicks the monitor on, and Sam suddenly finds himself staring at a grainy video feed of the street right outside his home. "I have a feeling. . ."

"Video feed of what?" Sam asks, leaning forward a little. Finn opens his mouth to respond, but before he gets the chance, another voice interrupts.

"Nothing, today."

Sam turns around, and finds himself staring face to face with a short man, a few years older than himself. And that wouldn't be so unnerving, except that he is absolutely _certain_ that he'd closed the door when he came in, and he's _positive_ that he didn't hear it open. Apparently he's not the only one to be surprised, at least, as Tina gasps and puts a hand over her heart, and Finn practically falls over his own feet.

"Dude!" Finn yells. "You said you wouldn't do that anymore!"

"Sorry," The man saids, shrugging before turning back to Sam. "It's nice to see you again, Sam."

What.

The.

Hell.

**A/N: Reviews are love! Also, they inspire longer stories. Not even kidding. Anyway, this story will be largely Sam's PoV, but still lots of Klaine, Finchel, Quick, etc. etc. Some of the characters may take a while to appear. . .my apologies, but I promise they are ALL HERE (except Emma, 'cuz I don't really like her very much.) **


	2. Chapter 2

13:57

**A/N: Short chapter is short. Also, in response to the inquiry regarding pairings (DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED!) Endgame will be Klaine (of course!) Finchel, Quick/Quam (haven't decided yet. . .hrmmmm), Artitana (is that an Artie/Santana/Brittany pairing?) because. . .why not? Um. . .who else is there. . .Asian Fusion. . .eh. But don't worry, there will be plenty of other awesomeness, too. Blainofsky, St. Dave, Blaintana, St. Hummel, Fizes, Tercedes. . .YOU NEVER KNOW!**

All in all it's been a pretty quiet day. Tina had woken up, headed to brief Will on the new kid's situation, and then had to repair a few power cables that Finn had tripped over. A quick piece of duct tape over the exposed wires took care of that. She'd just been getting ready to head down to the kitchen to grab herself a bowl of cereal when Artie Skyped her.

Or, rather, Artie and Blaine Skyped her.

"Hey, we need your help," Artie had said. "McKinley and Croswell. ASAP."

Blaine hadn't said anything, had just nodded his head. Tina sighed, and threw the thought out into the stratosphere, counting on Will to pick it up.

"Does Jesse know you're calling us?" she asked. Artie wore a chagrined expression, but Blaine just smiled cheerfully.

"Really big job," he said. "Appreciate the back-up."

Tina's not stupid. She'd known, as soon as she'd logged off, that there was something sketchy going on. Idol _never_ asked them for help, ever. It had happened maybe twice in the entire time that Tina had been working for Will. Once had been during the Second Invasion, and once had been when the Lone Ranger had dumped a baby off at Idol's headquarters. Though, that time hadn't been so much a request from help as a commandeering of baby-sitting services.

Still, she knows she has a job to do, and she's thankful for Will letting her stay, despite her differences, so she starts hooking the computers up for the visual feed, knowing that Finn will be by any second. Sometimes she wishes they'd just take him with them. He couldn't be more of a liability than Kurt, who was as likely to complain about getting his shoes dirty as he was to blast up some of Them.

Sure enough, she's almost plugged in when Finn busts in the door, dragging the new kid with him. "Hey, Sam, this is Tina," he says, and she peeks her head out just long enough to see the new kid.

He's cute, she thinks. Not that looks are the only thing that's important to her, or anything. . .and darn it, the cord is coming loose again, so she dives back under the table. "Nice to meet you," she says. These are the times that she wishes she had longer arms. . .when she's so close to just sticking it in the socket, but can't reach. And then. . .ah-ha. Done. She wipes her hands on her pants and slides out just in time to hear Finn ask her if he should grab the pop corn.

"No," she says, "I have a feeling."

"Video feed of what?" the new kid asks.

And then, appearing out of nowhere, Blaine pops up. Tina falls back against the table, clutching at her suddenly racing heart. They've begged him to stop just popping up like that – or they've begged _versions_ of him, but as she stares at this Blaine critically, she can't remembered if they've begged _this_ Blaine.

"Shouldn't you be done there, helping everyone out?" Finn asks, when they've finally all caught their breath – well, when she and Finn have, anyway. Sam still has his eyes all bugged out and looks like he's about to explode. She ignores him, though, because she's still trying to figure out which Blaine they're dealing with.

His hair is always the first clue. When it's QuinnsBlaine his hair is slicked back, every strand gelled into place, a "perfect helmet of gel and hairspray" in Kurt's words. When it's MercedesBlaine the hair is cropped short, close to his head. Then there's RachelsBlaine, all natural curls and bounce. And finally there's the Other Blaine, but they've only seen him once, and Tina is perfectly okay with that.

This much be QuinnsBlaine, because he's standing ramrod straight, and his jaw is perfectly shaved. He smells nice, too. QuinnsBlaine is Tina's personal favorite version, though she's willing to admit that they're all pretty yummy.

"H-How do you know my name?" Sam asks.

"Oh. . .that. . ." Blaine looks around, and there's a hint of nervousness in his eyes. His gaze lands on the video feed, which is showing six figures wandering around. Tina follows his line of sight. They look mostly confused, though Will is clearly trying to figure out the mission. Nice try, Tina thinks. They've been duped.

"Was that you who Skyped me, or Now You?" Tina asks.

"That was Now Me," Blaine says. "At my request. I had to get here before. . .listen, Sam."

The blond boy jerks around to look at him again. Blaine leans forward. "Have you met Kurt?" Sam nods. "Good. Have you heard him sing?" The boy considers for a moment.

"Does he kind of sound like a girl?"

Blaine smiles a little at that, an almost wolfish grin. "Some might say that."

"Then. . .yeah."

"Good," Blaine says, nodding his head. "What did you think?"

"That he sounded like an angel," Sam says, blushing a little, and now Blaine is absolutely beaming. Tina sighs, and rests her chin in her hand. She's forgotten about QuinnsBlaine's tendency to try and matchmake. So far he's had very little success. . .every one of them is still single. It would help, she thinks, if he would set them up with people of less questionable sexuality. Kurt was _never_ going to go out with a girl, no matter how hard Blaine tried.

"I thought he was. . ." Sam's voice fades out, though, and Tina abandons her admiration of the way that Blaine's slacks nicely cup his ass (QuinnsBlaine is also always the best-dressed). Sam is staring at the computer. He walks forward, and presses one hand to the image.

"That's her," he breathes out, low and throaty. _God_, Tina thinks, maybe must a little bit bitterly, why can't she ever get a guy to sound like that about her? She tries to see what he's pointing out, but his finger is covering up the image.

"Who?" Finn asks. Trust him never to pay attention to decorum or personal space. He just leans over and shoves Sam's finger aside, so he can see whatever's going on. "Quinn? Are you pointing at Quinn?"

"Her name is Quinn?" Sam asks, and his tone is still a little dumbstuck. "That's the most beautiful name I've ever heard. . ."

Blaine looks pretty pissed at this, and Tina is beginning to get a little nervous. They've never seen Blaine violent, but he _does_ work for Idol. And they've seen the Other Blaine, all ripped clothes, and blood, and desperation. He's probably not too happy to hear the new kid lusting over his future girlfriend.

"Uh. . .Sam. . ." Tina tries to get his attention, but Sam is far off in la-la land, judging by the glazed-over expression in his eyes. Finn puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"Dude. . .he doesn't know," he says. Blaine shrugs it off, still looking pissed.

"It's fine," he says. "I'm just. . .I'm too late."

"You could try again?" Finn suggests. Blaine attempts a smile at that, but it's icy and cold.

"Thanks anyway," he says. "Tina, go ahead and let them know that they can come back."

And then he's gone, just like that. Tina lets out a long breath of air. Blaine always makes her so nervious. . .she shakes herself out of it, and leans over to grab a cell phone.

"Hey, Will," she says. "No. . .false alarm. Yeah, Artie just called to apologize. Sorry."

When she turns around, Sam's mouth is hanging open in shock. Finn, clearly amused by the other boy, is waving his hand back and forth, making bizarre clicking noises. Tina sighs, and slaps at his hands.

"Stop that," she says, and Finn shrugs, abashed. She turns to look at the new kid. "Sam? Sam, are you okay?"

He blinks twice, and seems to regain some control, but his mouth is still hanging open. Tina finds herself kind of entranced by it. . .it's absolutely huge, and she absently wonders if he can fit a tennis ball in there.

"Yeah. . .just. . .did that guy just. . .like. . .Apparate?"

"What's that mean?" Finn asks, frowning. "What's apperate?"

Tina thinks she remembers that word, from a series of children's books her mother used to read her. "Like in Harry Potter?" she asks, and when Sam nods, she giggles a little and shakes her head. "No, don't be ridiculous, magic isn't real."

"Then how. . ."

Tina glances at Finn, and sees the small frown on his face. Blaine is. . .well. . .it's hard to explain, and she doesn't really want to be the one to have to try. It had taken almost three weeks to explain to Finn, and while it is unlikely that anything could be harder than explaining it to Finn.

"He moves through time. That's his ability. Sometimes it seems like he can travel through space, but he can't. He's just moving in from the future, or in from the past, and we can't see it, because we all only move forward in time."

Sam's face scrunches up, and Tina can tell that he doesn't understand. She sighs, and tries to come up with another way to explain it.

"Wait . . . ability?"

Well, that does make things easier, that his confusion is over something that simple.

"Dude," Finn said. "You know. _Abilities_. Like the ones you have."

"I don't. . ." Sam shook his head, clearly confused. "I don't have any special abilities. . .I mean, I'm kind of good at football, is that what you're talking about?"

Tina frowned, a bit confused herself, now. If Sam wasn't special, then what was he doing here? She glanced over at Finn, who looked equally perplexed.

"Well. . ." he said after a minute, "maybe it's like me. I can't really do anything, either, but Will says that he's sure I will one day. He can tell things like that. I think."

Tina bites her lip. She wishes that she could give more answers, but this is so far outside her area of expertise. Instead, she turns back to the video feed. Luckily for her, at that moment the rest of the team finally arrives.

"Hey," Finn winds, also catching sight of the video, "there's no sound."

Tina rolls her eyes. There's never been any sound, it's not something new. Instead, they just watch the small figures walking around. Will has his hands cupped around his mouth, undoubtedly yelling something. Quinn has her arms crossed, and is tapping her feet impatiently. Tina can't see Mercedes or Rachel, but assumes that they're somewhere out of the range of her cameras (one carefully set up on every intersection in the city). After about five minutes, Will shrugs, and they all walk out of range.

"Well," Finn says after a beat. "That was super boring."

Tina turns off the broadcast, and turns to look at the new kid. He's standing, with his feet planted far apart, his hands pushed into some kind of weird. . .well. . .frankly, she has no idea what he's doing, but he looks absolutely ridiculous.

"Dude," Finn says. "What are you doing?"

Sam blushes, and drops his hands. "Dunno," he says. "In the movies, when they have superpowers, they always. . .like. . ." and then he just shrugs.

Tina sighs again. Great, she thinks, they have another Finn on their hands.

Xxx

The others get back just in time for dinner. Sam offers to help, and Tina lets him. This proves to be a huge mistake, however, and she ends up having him set the table, after he doesn't even understand how to cook rice. Mercedes, as always, compliments her cooking, while Kurt grumbles about everything that not organic and Will just eats silently.

"So . . . how about them Buckeyes?" Finn finally says, just to break the oppressive silence.

"What I don't understand is why we were called down in the first place," Will muses. "It's so unusual for Idol to ask for help. . .but even they aren't twisted enough to waste our time for nothing."

"Oh, that," Finn says, nodding. "Yeah, Blaine set that up, so he could pop in here and talk to us."

"Which Blaine?" Rachel asks eagerly, leaning forward. It's been a few weeks since RachelsBlaine has shown up, and Tina can understand the longing. Finn just shrugs.

"I think QuinnsBlaine," Tina says. "He was very proper and closed lipped."

"Yeah, he got kind of pissed when. . ." Finn's voice trails off as he glances at Sam.

"Oh," Rachel says with a disappointed sigh, sitting back in her chair. Quinn's mouth is twisted in a weird grimace.

"What did he want to talk about?" Will asks. Tina frowns a little, and glances at Sam. Since everything had to do with him, she feels a little odd just spouting it out. The boy shifts a little uncomfortably in his chair.

"Uh. . .I think he just wanted to talk to me, sir," he says finally, blushing a little. "He wanted to know if I'd met everyone. Especially. . .uh. . .Kurt."

Kurt perks up at this, and turns to look at him for the first time during dinner. Tina shudders a little. He has that predatory-gay look in his eyes again, and she really wouldn't want to be Sam right then. Finn catches her eye, and she knows that remembers, too. Sam, meanwhile, clearly hasn't noticed anything, since he's still staring at Quinn, the same way he has been all during dinner. Tina sighs. Usually she's fine with just being herself, but these are the moments she wishes she were as beautiful as the other girl.

"What else did he want?" Will presses.

"Um. . .nothing," Finn says. "I don't think. It was kind of weird."

"Blaine's always kind of weird," Mercedes points out, and Finn shrugs in agreement. Will just sighs and sits back in his chair, his eyes closed.

"Well. . ." he finally says. "Sam. . .how are you fitting in, here?"

"Uh. . .good. . ." Sam says slowly. "I mean. . .I don't really get where 'here' is, but I guess it's better than being chased through the woods by _Them_."

Tina's mouth drops open, and she sees that simple gesture mirrored by everyone else at the table, except Quinn and Will. None of them had heard the story of Sam – just been told that he'd be showing up, and they should be expecting him. Usually Will got to the newbies before They even found out. . .that's how he'd picked up Rachel, Finn, and Mercedes, anyway. Quinn, of course, had joined just a few months ago, but Will had hardly needed to find her. . .she'd found them.

"Whoa. . ." Finn lets out a low whistle. "They were chasing you? Did you actually see one of Them?"

Tina lets out a small squeak. She doesn't mean to, it just kind of escapes, and she covers her mouth as soon as possible so that nobody judges her. But Will's eyes have snapped open, and he's leaning forward with a sour look on his face.

"I think that's enough for tonight," he says wearily. "Sam, come to my office early tomorrow morning. I'll explain everything."

Xxx

Tina doesn't have anything special about her, and she knows it. She's lucky that Will lets her stay, that she wasn't shipped off to the Orphanage when her parents were killed. She's lucky that he found her a job, and she's lucky that the team doesn't make fun of her, or call her names. She's lucky that she doesn't have to do anything dangerous like Will or Quinn, or like the others will have to do one day.

Still, as she watches them all troop down to Will's in the morning for a debriefing session, as she watches Finn pat the new kid on the back, and watches Mercedes gossip beside Kurt, she wishes that she were special. She wishes that whatever made them able to do the things they could do. . .well, she wished she had that, too.

Except. . .except that she sees Quinn, standing outside the door to Will's office, her expression cold and blank. She shudders a little. After a year in Will's mansion, she's still a little afraid of the other girl. She's a little afraid of Idol, as a whole, but she supposes that she should be. Idol, after all, has successfully fought Them off, numerous times, and anybody who can do that must be very powerful. But Quinn has said, time and time again, with disdain in her voice, that they have no idea what's really out there, that they have no idea what's coming.

Tina wraps her arms closer around herself, as Quinn's dead eyes bore into her again. She might not have a power, but even she can feel the icy dread of knowing that something's coming. It's all been too quiet. A year since the last raid. Two years since the last massacre. They're getting bored.

Tina doesn't have anything special about her, and she knows it. And, though she wishes she had that easy camaraderie, and though she wishes she had the immediate friendship that forged the team together. . .well, she didn't ever want to have the dead look in Quinn's eyes, or the constant exhaustion that seemed to plague Will.

She walks back to her bedroom alone.

**A/N: Next chapter we move over to Idol's PoV, and a whole lot of things will become clear. They have a lot better understanding of what's going on than Tina or Sam, so you, the audience, will as well.**

**Reviews are love! **


	3. Chapter 3

13:57

**A/N: Warning. . .a lot of bad language in this one. Santana needs to wash her mouth out. Thanks for all the reviews! So helpful!**

Santana is sitting in her bedroom, putting on her makeup, when Brittany tells her the news. Normally, when Brit gives her weird little pronouncements, Santana just ignores her, finishes what she's doing, and then gets the real info from Jesse st. Douchebag, but this time there's little clarification needed.

There's another freak out there, and the fucking X-Factor snagged him up with their grubby little hands before Idol even got a chance. This was the third time in a year that the talentless group of freaks had gone in and stolen talent from right under their noses. It was absolutely unacceptable.

So when Brit walked in, all big eyes and rockin' body and said "Guess what, Santana. . .Quinn made a new friend and his name is Sam" Santana was out of her chair and marching down the hallway, and screw the fact that one of her eyes was still missing a set of falsies.

For the most part, working for Idol sucks ass. Jesse keeps them on a tight schedule, making sure that their physical fitness is topnotch, and their control over their. . .special abilities. . .subpar to no one. They're forced to drink disgusting fitness shakes, and are constantly being woken up by Artie's weirdass alarm system. Plus, every other day there's another mission to stop Them from picking up random pregnant ladies. Santana honestly can't remember the last time that she wasn't tired, cranky, or injured.

She does, however, remember her time before Idol, and that's enough to keep her invested.

At least Jesse found them a nice place, with the plush carpeting and the fancy windows. Quinn had explained the architecture at one point, but it wasn't like Santana had been listening. The pretty blonde was mostly just a buzzkill, and she'd been on Mission: Tap That regarding the new guy at the time.

She reaches Jesse's room, which of course is at the opposite end of the building, and barges in. She's not bothering with the secret knocks or anything, she just keeps herself prepared to stop time if Jesse decides to Mindfuck her, or toss a piece of furniture her way. Apparently, however, he's expecting her, because he's just leaning back in his chair, heavy designer boots on the table, and one hand running through his hair.

Damn, he's a fine-looking man.

Of course, Santana's been there, done that, and for all that he's packing in the power and looks department, he is drastically lacking somewhere a little further south. She's had more fun with her left hand than she had the one night she gave him. He'd claimed that he'd been tired from the day (granted, they'd saved another girl who'd gotten herself preggers, and they'd been knocked around a bit – Dave had spent the whole evening in the hospital, and Blaine had flitted off to whatever dimension he went to when he was hurt). Maybe he'd had a point, but fighting just made Santana horny, and she'd been hoping for a show.

Whatever. Past. What is far more important is the present.

"What the hell, st. James?" she asks, throwing her hands in the air and jazzing them around. "Another one? You let X-Factor get _another_ one?"

Jesse just twists his wrist in the air, admiring his no doubt manicured lady hand. "We're not missing out," he drawls. "His talent isn't up to our caliber."

"Screw _caliber_," Santana seethes. "We need new blood, period. I'm exhausted all the time, and what the hell happens if They start again? There's only four of us left fighting, st. Douchenozzle."

"Thank you, Ms. Lopez, I _do_ know how to count," he says again, still stretched out languidly. "If you're so tired, find Blaine. He can just take you to seventy years ago. Rest up as much as you want, and then have him flit you back."

Santana's eyes harden again. Jesse is always so blasé about everything. . .he _knows_ what those trips do to Blaine, what they mean, and yet it's always his answer to everything. She leans forward, so that she's nose to nose with the dickwad. She knows she's giving him a free pass to look down her shirt, but she's too pissed off to care.

"You know something, don't you?" she asks. Jesse just quirks one eyebrow and looks self-satisfied.

"Well, there _is_ a reason that I'm in charge," he says.

That look pisses her off more than anything. So, even though it's forbidden, and even though Jesse is sure to punish her for it later, she goes for it. Less than a snap of the finger, and everything's frozen. The air that had been drifting gently through the room stops, the ticking of the clock stops, and Jesse's infernal twittering hand stops. Santana leans forward a little more, grabs st. Dickwads precious scarf and then, for good measure, breaks one of his fingers.

And then she runs out the door because she may be rebellious, but she's not stupid.

She makes it past two rooms before she hears the loudly cleared throat beside her. And, despite the fact that she's still in a diva-worthy rage, she can't help but smile.

"Well," she smirks, "if it isn't my favorite hobbit."

"Santana, you really need to unfreeze time," he says, and he's not smiling at all. Which, honestly is how Santana likes him best. Blaine's pretty good-looking – hell, everyone in Idol is pretty good-looking – but when he smiles he looks young, and. . .ew. . .happy. When he's frowning at her, now, for instance, his jaw is more defined and his eyes kind of smoldering. . .well, he looks downright fuckable like that.

"Really, boo?" she asks, running one hand down the side of his face. "You and I could have some fun times, while everyone else is still stuck."

"True," Blaine concedes, and his easy acquiescence ruins all her fun. "But we could do that anyway. You know it doesn't work."

Santana rolls her eyes. "One of these days, I'm gonna touch that fine, hobbit ass," she says. Still, she does as she asks, and instantly hears Jesse st. James swearing from behind her. She giggles a little. Blaine rolls his eyes.

"I really don't see why you always feel the need to antagonize him," he sighs.

"He's a dick."

"He's been through a lot."

And hellz no, Santana is not letting their fearless leader off that easily. "We've all been through a lot," she snots. "Doesn't mean we all act like him."

Blaine smiles at that, but it's one of his charming smiles, so Santana doesn't mind too much. He reaches down and grabs her hand, sliding his fingers between her own before bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle. "So says the biggest bitch of them all," he chuckles.

"You know it," she agrees.

And, just when Blaine is finally getting her to calm down a little bit, and just when she's thinking that maybe it will be a nice day – maybe she'll go make out with Brit later, or join Dave in the sauna, or, hell, maybe she'll really go for broke and take a few laps in the pool with Artie – the alarms go off.

All the alarms. There's the weirdass ticking for Blaine, and the whirring for Dave, and the bells for Jesse, and, dammit all to pieces, the screaming sirens for her. She groans.

"Seriously?" she asks. "I don't get paid enough for this.

Xxx

Jesse doesn't even really have time to brief them before they're all in the helicopter, Brit and Artie in the pilots chairs, taking off. He tries screaming at them once they're flying, but the mad chopping of the propellers cuts him off every few words.

"They arrived - night - family - oldest girl - leave."

"Sure thing, boss," Santana says, shooting him the bird. Dave laughs at that a little, and even Blaine smirks. Jesse just frowns, leans forward, and shouts even louder.

"Blaine and Dave – with me."

She doesn't quite catch _who_ is with Jesse, but since he's staring straight at her, she has a pretty good idea. She looks beseechingly at Blaine, but he just shrugs, and Dave is leering at her in that jocky cocky way of his. She sighs and crosses her arms.

They touch down after about half an hour, apparently in the middle of a cornfield. Which figures. About the only good thing that's come out of Them and her powers was the fact that she was able to move out of Podunk Ohio and into. . .slightly less Podunk Ohio. Hell, she thinks, maybe if there's another alien invasion she'll make it all the way to New York. That would be pretty swell.

She has both feet on the ground when she hears a high-pitched voice whine "Really, Will? I can _smell_ the manure and I am absolutely not stepping foot anywhere with dung. These boots are _designer_."

She turns around, and if she thought her day was bad before, well, now it's _way_ worse, because standing in front of her is a full contingent of X-Factor. There's curly-haired buttchin, and squeaky bitch, and fatass diva, and gaywad fairyboy. At least Quinn isn't there.

"This girl is _ours_," Jesse yells, the minute his feet have touched the ground.

"That will be her decision," Buttchin says. "She's a _person_, Jesse, she has to make a _choice_."

"Hi, Blaine," Squeaky bitch says, fluttering her eyelashes. Santana thinks she wants to puke. Blaine, meanwhile, just looks confused.

"Um. . .hi," he says with an uncertain smile. "Have we met?"

Squeaky Bitch seems surprised by this response, and she actually begins to pout before Fatass Diva pokes her. "Rach, this is NowBlaine, not YourBlaine."

"Oh!" Gaywad fairyboy exclaims. "Are you Blaine? I've heard a lot about you. Honestly, I thought you'd be taller. . ."

"Um. . ." Blaine just kind of shrugs uncomfortably, and Santana just really wants to say "I told you so," because it is beyond obvious that FutureBlaine has been using his powers to trip around in time and fuck with X-Factors' brains. Which. . .is actually kind of admirable. Except that Blaine is just smiling uncertainly, and Dave is trying not to laugh, and Jesse is _still_ arguing with Buttchin. And all Santana wants to do is go home and finish her make-up, because she _knows_ she doesn't look great just then.

So she grabs Dave by the arm, and starts hauling him off toward the farmhouse.

"Hey!" he complains, lumbering along behind her. "Didn't Jesse say that you're supposed to be with him?"

"Yeah, but he's not moving, and I want to get this over with sos I can gets my eat on," Santana barks. "So let's go."

As per usual, Dave is willing to follow basically any form of authority. They move together toward the farmhouse. Santana's looking for some kind of movement when all of a sudden Blaine pops up in front of her. He looks. . .different, though. His hair, usually gelled so carefully, is free and curly, and his eyes are sparkling brighter than she's ever seen them.

"Sunshine's on the top floor," he tells them chipperly. "Where am I right now?"

Dave is gaping back between Blaine and. . .well, the Blaine that is still standing back with X-Factor, chatting it up with the weirdos. He's never seen another Blaine, but Santana has. She's met numerous different Blaine's from the future, each one a little different, based on the choices made in whichever time he comes from. She also met PastBlaine, once, though she likes not having to think about that, because. . .

Anyway. She jerks her thumb back the way they came, and Blaine nods his head gratefully before hurrying that way. She heads up to the porch. There's an old woman sitting downstairs, rocking back and forth in a chair. Santana only spares her half a glance. She's normal, worth nothing. She heads toward the stairs.

She's at the very top, trying to decide which door to open, when she hears the whirring of a heli-jet outside. She sucks in a quick breath of air. They are here. Which means there's not a lot of time. She wonders why Brittany barely caught this one.

The sound of gunfire.

"You grab the left!" she shouts at Dave, and she instantly goes toward the first door on the right, throwing it open. The room is blue, with little white clouds painted on the ceiling. There's a crib against one wall. There's nobody in there.

She exits at the same time as Dave, and they peer at each other for a moment – long enough to hear a car pulling up, and a woman screaming. More gunfire.

_Santana! Dave!_

They both groan a little as Jesse's voice rips through their heads.

_Where the fuck are you guys_?

"I can't answer, douche!" she yells, before throwing open the final door and running in. There's more gunfire now, and she feels something sick twisting in her stomach. This is wrong, this is so wrong. . .they don't have all of their weaponry, Jesse had assured them that they could make it in and out before anyone arrived. . .and they're all here, which is just _wrong_. Brittany and Artie don't _come_ when there's danger, they don't know how to protect themselves. . .

This room is painted pink, with the same sickening clouds on the ceiling. With a sinking heart, Santana realizes that there's no one here, and is about to run back to the helicopter. But Dave is still there, in the way, and his mouth is opening. He's saying something, but she doesn't care. She sees it, in that minute, the huddled figure in the corner, long dark hair covering her features.

"Sunshine?" she asks. They girl glances up. She's absolutely adorable, big brown eyes beneath straight bangs. She nods.

"Grab her!" Santana tells Dave, and then she's running down the stairs. She can smell Them, already, that honeysuckle sweetness that follows them around. She hates breathing through her mouth because she can _taste_ Them. She hates breathing through her nose because the smell is suffocating. She hears a scream from the girl, and a thud as Dave lurches after. But she's already pushed the front door open and she just doesn't care anymore.

They have landed. There's a truck between Santana and the helicopter, and she dashes around it, ignoring the little girl who's crying in the backseat, ignoring the unconscious figure in the front. There's a massive crack across the front windshield. It might have been just a crash, but there's a suspicious hole, and the cracks are radiated out all wrong, and she _knows_ what that means.

She doesn't care, however, because one of them is standing between her and the helicopter. She can see it's hunched back, the long black robes pooling on the ground. Once again, that angry oil bubbles up inside her. She wants to rip that damn robe off, wants to hurl it away, wants to scream into Their face. She's seen it once before, but she'd been scared then, and unprepared. Now she's ready to sink her nails into pale flesh and rip out empty eyes.

She throws herself at it, tries to freeze everything. It half works. The wind stops blowing, and Dave's feet stop from behind her. But it doesn't effect the figure, which just turns around.

"Santana!" Blaine's voice is high and terrified. "Stop it! _Stop it_!"

Gunfire again, and the figure twists around violently as Artie's bullets pound into its body. It won't be stopped, however, and Santana knows that. She just doesn't know how to get around it.

The dumbfuck X-Factor kids are just standing there, staring with terrified eyes. They're not doing anything, however, and Santana wants to scream at them. Dave catches up to her, not even out of breath.

"How do we get around It?" he asks. Santana shakes her head, because she doesn't know.

"Where's the other one?" she asks. They always work in pairs. _Always_.

_Blaine got rid of the other one_. Jesse's voice is calm again, in control. IT has that snide tone to it, the one that means he has a plan, that means that they'll all get out of this more or less unscathed.

_David. You're up_.

Santana turns and takes the girl from his arms. He's done something to her. . .her head is lolling back now, and she's barely conscious. Dave just shrugs apologetically. He takes a deep breath, before moving up to take It on.

Santana's really glad that Dave's as stupid as he is. It doesn't even occur to him that he could die, doesn't occur to him that he's taking on the most powerful being on earth. He'll do what he's told. A good little soldier.

Dave gets in the first punch.

_Run!_

Santana doesn't need to be told twice. She dashes around both of them, and hands the girl to Jesse. She hauls herself into the helicopter, relieved to see that everyone else is there. Jesse is safely on a seat (of _course_ – that douche canoe wouldn't dare put himself in a position where he might die). Blaine's back there, too, and. . .

Oh. Her Blaine is back on the helicopter. FutureBlaine must have drawn off the other one. Santana's stomach flipflops. She's going to have to talk to him about that. . .about where his future selves go, about what happens if they get hurt. . .

Dave is thrown into the side of the helicopter. Artie starts to take off. Brittany screams, short. Santana leans over, and reaches out her hands.

Blaine is staring back at the car, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Wait!" Will's yelling. The rest of his team is still just standing there, not getting back into their own cars. "What about that baby?"

"It's just human!" Jesse yells back. "Don't be stupid, Will. It's not worth our time. Get your team back home."

"You're going to let it die because it's human?" Gaywad Fairyboy's voice is higher than ever. Santana grabs Dave's wrist, but it's slick with sweat, and she loses him when It dashes into him again.

"Who the fuck cares?" she screams. Jesse grabs the back of her pants, and she lunges forward. She grips Dave with both of her hands, and _yanks_. She's not strong enough to pull him up, but she's strong enough to get his hand up, so he grabs onto the bottom of the helicopter himself.

The stupid baby screams again. Blaine is still looking in that direction. The helicopter lifts, two feet off the ground, three. . .

It lunges toward them again. Will grabs Gaywad's shirt collar and starts dragging him away.

"It's just a baby!" Gaywad yells. "It didn't _do_ anything! Aren't we supposed to help it? Isn't that who we are?"

Dave has both his hands on the helicopter now. Four feet. Five. Blaine is still looking toward the car.

"No," Santana says. "_No_. Don't you dare, Blaine. Don't you fucking dare!"

She wants to reach out and grab at him, but she can't, because she has one hand on Dave's jacket and is trying to pull him up onto the helicopter. "I'll see you back at the mansion," Blaine promises, and then he jumps off the helicopter.

Santana screams, but they're seven feet up and leaving. Below her, Blaine is dashing toward the car, but there's no way he can ever be faster than Them. As she watches, the black figure overtakes him, reaches out. . .

And then everything is blocked by Dave's back and then they're over the treeline and they're gone.

**A/N: Hmm. . .undecided on whether next chapter we should return to Sam, spend some time with Kurt, or learn some more about the new girl. . .decisions, decisions. . .**

**Reviews are love! **


	4. Chapter 4

13:57

**A/N: Kind of a clunky chapter, so I apologize, but I know that some of you were incredibly confused so. . .cue the massive exposition! Thanks as ever for all of the reviews, alerts, and favorites. **

Sam's sitting in the middle of what looks like a school office. His legs are spread apart, and he's resting his arms on his thighs, trying to keep his fingers from drumming out a nervous tattoo. There are diplomas on the walls, books on the shelves, and a picture on the desk that's turned in just such a way that Sam can't really see it. Will is sitting on the other side, vest firmly buttoned, but shirt not. His hair has fallen out of the gel, and there are marks from where he's run his fingers through it. His eyes are bloodshot and exhausted.

"What do you know?" he asks in a voice that's ragged and just a little broken. Sam shrugs.

"Nothing."

He'd spent the last afternoon glued to Tina's side, staring at little glimpses shot from the back of the helicopter. He'd watched everyone walk out, watched them talk to a tall man with perfectly styled hair, and a shorter man who looked like a twin to Blaine. He'd seen two strangers march off, and then seen guns come one.

"What's going on?" he asked. Tina just grabbed a phone and started screaming at someone named Artie.

"They are there," Finn said, and his own gaze didn't leave the monitor. "That must be it."

Sam wanted to ask who They were. . .he only knew the stories he'd been told, only knew the vague outlines that he'd been running away from. Somehow he knew that these people knew more.

He saw them scream, and duck, and then something hit the camera and everything shattered.

He'd been standing with Finn just outside the door when the helicopter landed. He'd been there when Will had run in, yelling at Tina to prep the infirmary, ordering Finn out, to "help him in, he's hurt."

He'd been standing there when Finn returned, carrying a strangely wrapped bundle in his arms, a bundle that Rachel and Mercedes had pawed at nervously.

He'd been standing there when Kurt walked in with a shell-shocked expression on his face.

That's when he'd gone to the kitchen. Sure, Tina had made fun of him that first night, saying that he didn't know how to cook. He didn't, really, that wasn't such a lie, but he'd spent enough time taking care of his younger brother and sister that he could throw together a passable tuna casserole. He'd spent nights watching them, after They came and his dad died, after his mom had to work 20 hour days just to accumulate enough ration tickets to feed a family.

He'd rummaged through the pantry, and the fridge. He didn't find any tuna, but he found dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, and thought those would probably be okay. He felt kind of bad chopping the dinosaurs apart, but there was a certain pleasure to be had in decapitating a tyrannosaurus.

They'd all sat around the dinner table, nearly silent. Will had thanked him for cooking. Rachel and Mercedes still weren't there. It was Finn who suggested bringing some of the food to the infirmary, and Sam had quickly agreed.

It wasn't an infirmary, Sam realized when they arrived. It was just an old nurse's station, and he was becoming more and more convinced that this building wasn't a mansion at all, but just an old abandoned school. It made him wonder why his room was a janitor's closet, instead of an English room, but whatever. They found both girls sitting on opposite sides of a bed, glaring at one another over the top of it.

Lying on the bed was a boy, maybe a year older than Sam. His hair was dark, his eyebrows dark, and his eyelashes spread out like dark butterfly wings, but his skin was a chalky grey color. Blankets were tightly tucked around him, and he breathed in a light, airy wheeze, not nearly as often as he probably should have. He looked familiar, and it only took a moment for Sam to realize that it was the same dude that had popped up in front of him the other day.

"Hey," Finn said. "Sam cooked dinner. Do you girls want any?"

"Yes," Mercedes said, but she didn't take her gaze off Rachel, nor did she release Blaine's hand.

"No," Rachel said, similarly intent. "Until my love awakens once more, I will neither eat nor sleep."

"Well, that's just stupid," Sam said, the words coming out before he even realized what he was about to say. Both girls swiveled to look at him, and he felt like he was being pierced by their dark eyes. "Um. . .I just meant. . .I doubt he would want you to hurt yourself?"

"Good cover, dude," Finn said approvingly.

Sam had stood there as Mercedes ate her dinner with her left hand, and Rachel with her right. He had stood there as Finn grabbed their dishes, his fingers brushing against Rachel's for just a second longer than necessary. He had just stood there when the door burst open, and his angel stood there.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" she'd hissed. Sam's heart skipped a beat, and he wondered what he'd done to make her so mad, before he realized that she was glaring at the two girls.

"He's not yours," Rachel said indignantly.

"_Fuck that_," the angel had said, and pointed imperiously at the door. "Get out."

Mercedes and Finn did so without another word. Rachel however, threw her shoulders back and stuck her chin up.

"I talked to him," she said. "I was there when he got hurt. I have every right. . ."

"Get out before I make you."

That had been enough to make Rachel flee, before the angel sat down beside Blaine. She reached one hand out, tentatively, just resting it over his heart. Sam was still standing there, his mouth hanging open. She turned, and noticed him for the first time.

She didn't say anything, just stared at him with those hazel eyes that tore his heart out of his chest and left it on the floor. He bowed a little, stumbling over his own feet.

"_Nga yawne lu oer,_" he muttered, before running out the door.

That had been last night. In the early morning, Finn had popped in to his room, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, demanding that Sam had in to talk to Will. So that's where he is now, sitting in what must have been a high school teacher's office, staring at the other man and admitting that he knows nothing.

Will takes a deep breath and begins.

Xxx

It wasn't always like this. Twenty years it wasn't like this, but you don't remember, because you weren't even born. Thirty years ago it wasn't like this, but I don't remember because I wasn't born.

They came in 1985, and everybody cheered. They landed at Cape Canaveral, and were taken to the White House in a string of limos and flashing sirens. They met the president, shook his hand, and posed for pictures. They promised humanity, and intergalactic communication, and hope for everyone. They gave us the cure for cancer, they taught us how to heal broken bones, and we taught them how to farm and grow crops in lands that didn't have enough warmth, or soil, or water or son.

Then people started to be born wrong. Children who could do things, things that weren't human, things that weren't normal. Children were taken to hospitals to be studied. It didn't make the newspapers.

Ten years after that They came again, more than came before, to all corners of the world. Again They were taken to be wined and dined by the political elite. I was alive, then. I watched it on tv with my parents. I marveled at Their beauty. Because They are beautiful. Did you see them, when they chased you, Sam? Of course not, because you were too afraid, because you've been taught that They are evil and that They want to kill you. You were taught right, but that doesn't make Them any less beautiful.

On January 19. . .you know that date, don't you? . . .that's the date of the massacre. All of the radio stations went silent, and then there were phone trees, frantic school boards calling and hospitals radioing in. They touched down all of the world. They took women, and children. They killed the men. I hid out in the bomb shelter, with my mom and dad. I could hear Them, that entire night. I could hear Them laughing, and calling to me to come out. I cried to my mother, but she didn't understand what I meant. She didn't hear Them. Nobody else did.

And then They were gone, and nobody knew what they wanted. We came out of those bomb shelters, remnants of the Cold War. We went back to school, and back to work, and we ried to pretend it didn't happen. The Speaker for the House took over as President, and he preached pacifism, and ignorance, and prayer. The Pentagon set up a missile defense station, in case they came again.

Eighteen years ago Jesse st. James walked into a school building. He'd been teased his whole life, which isn't saying much. He was in first grade, when he dropped his pencil. He didn't pick it up. . .just reached out his hand and the pencil floated toward him. I was in high school, and read about it in the newspaper. I didn't tell anyone I already knew. I knew about Jesse before he knew about himself.

I went to find him, to talk to him. We had a whole conversation before we both realized we hadn't opened our mouths. I tried to protect him, tried to keep him safe, to explain to him that this world was different, that he couldn't let people see who he was, that he had to hide it away like I did. He didn't listen to me, though. Jesse was always prouder than he was smart.

Fifteen years ago They came back. I was in my first year of college. They came for Jesse. They took him. I didn't see him for two years, but when he came back he was different. A little sixth grader, but he came up to me with all this knowledge in his eyes, all this twisted wisdom and sick surety, and told me to drop out. He told me that we had to take them down.

Fifteen years ago They came back and They stayed. I don't know why They are here. Nobody knows why They are here. We just know that They want to find all of the people who are special, people who can do things, people who aren't, entirely, human. I don't know what they do when They find those people, Jesse won't say. But it's getting worse. They're getting more of the kids, and Jesse and I aren't getting there in time. They have something planned.

We're different, Sam, we're special. And because we're different, we have a responsibility to save the others who are like us. We have a responsibility to make a home for ourselves, because the world out there doesn't understand. The scientists want to study us, and the politicians want to use us, and the normal people are just afraid of us, and that makes them angry, and that makes them hate.

People always hate what they don't understand.

Xxx

"What do you mean, special?" Sam asks when Will is finally finished. He has other questions, too. . .who is Jesse st. James? What do They look like, if they're so beautiful? Why is his angel so beautiful, and why is Blaine bleeding in the nurses' office? He settles for one that he thinks Will might actually answer.

"Abilities," Will tries to explain, his hands waving through the air. "There seem to be two different. . .categories of them. One deals with powers of the mind, of connectivity, and the other deals with a control over time."

Sam stares at him. His mouth is probably hanging open, but he doesn't get what's going on. Will sighs.

_Telepathy_ Sam hears, but Will's mouth isn't moving. _It's how They speak to one another, but it's also one of the abilities. I can do it. Jesse can, and so can Mercedes. Kurt can as well, though he doesn't use words. He just plants the idea, so that you think it's your own. Jesse can move things with his mind, too, but he's the only one who can do that. _

"Oh," Sam mutters. "That's. . .that's kind of awesome. Like the X-Men."

"Not like the X-men," Will says, and his tone is flat. "We're not superheroes, Sam. There's no mutated gene that gives us a thousand different abilities. There are just two, and it's more of a curse than a gift."

"Okay," Sam says, and he pretends to agree, but he doesn't. Because people who don't like comic books never get it. . .the power is never a gift, and being a superhero is never easy. "Time?"

"We move through time in one direct," Will says. "From past to the future, in a linear line. They move through it in all directions: Time is fluid for them. It's like. . .like we know how to doggie paddle, and They know how to dive."

Sam thinks about it, but the analogy doesn't really make sense. "Is it kind of like the switch from Super Mario Bros to the N64?" he asks finally. "Like 2D to 3D?"

Will grins at that a little. "Yes," he says. "That's a good way to think about it. I'll have to remember that. None of us can move through time like that. . .Quinn had stop it, though, and Rachel can sometimes _see_ things from the future, but she can't go there."

"What about the other kid?" Sam asks. "Blaine?"

"Blaine. . ." Will sighs, and his eyes close in on himself. "Yes. Blaine can also move through time, but it's different. You'll have to ask him about it."

"Okay," Sam says. "Finn?"

"We don't know yet," Will says. "But he's special."

"How do you know?"

Will won't look at him. "I know."

"And. . ." Sam's almost afraid to ask, but he has to know. "What about me?"

xxx

Sam goes down to visit Blaine. He tells himself it's because he's a good person, and he wants to make sure the other man is all right, but he knows that isn't it. He knows that he's just hoping to see his angel again. He keeps calling her that, and no matter how many times he hears her real name (Quinn, Quinn, Quinn) he can't help but continue to think of her as this otherworldly, perfect being.

Besides, Will wants to be left alone, and Tina's busy fiddling with her computers. He can't find Finn.

The door to the infirmary is open, so he walks in, his eyes instantly sinking out gold. He doesn't know why he's looking so eagerly. . .just walking in, he can feel that she's not there.

Kurt is.

He's sitting down beside Blaine, just staring at the other boy. He doesn't' seem to even notice that Sam's come in.

"Uh. . .hi. . ." Sam says awkwardly, sitting down in the only other chair. "How. . .uh. . .how's he doing?"

Kurt doesn't look up. He's frowning a little, staring at Blaine like he's some kind of puzzle with missing pieces. "He went back," he says after a long minute. "It was so horrible, Sam. They were there, and we couldn't do _anything_. But Idol, they. . . they were strong, and they had all of these powers, but they weren't helping anyone. There was a baby crying, and they were just going to leave it."

"Oh," Sam says. He's uncomfortable, and he doesn't know why he's still there. Kurt shifts a little, blushes.

"I'm sorry," he says, looking up for the first time. "That was weird, wasn't it?

"No, it's fine."

"They were leaving in the helicopter," Kurt continues after a long minute, his eyes resting on the stranger. "And he just. . .he jumped down and ran over. And then they all disappeared. Him, the baby, Them. We went over to see what happened, and then he was back, just lying there, unconscious."

"Where did he go?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. I've never met him before. Just heard about him from the girls." Kurt tilts his head a little, and something in his gaze shifts, so that he no longer looks confused. A gentle smile settles on his face. "He really is beautiful."

Another minute passes, and there's nothing sad. Sam's never been good at dealing with silence, so he decides to break it, to make something more out of this.

"So. . .you're gay?"

Kurt's head jerks up, and his eyes are blazing now, his lips set in a thin line. He gives a quick jerk of his head. "Yeah. So what?"

Sam shrugs, and all of the intensity instantly drains out of the other boy. "So nothing," Sam says. "I'm going to go find Finn."

He doesn't though. He walks through the hallways until he finally comes to what used to be a cafeteria, with an entire wall of windows. They're coated in dirt and grime, and he wonders how long it was since kids ate in here, since there were food fights and gross, greasy pizza littered across the tables. Still, they're the best windows he can find, so he walks to them, and stares out into the sunlight.

Quinn is sitting on a bench, looking away from him. Sam pulls up a chair, sits down, and stares.

**A/N: Next chapter. . .back to Idol! I hate that I love Idol so much more than X-Factor, but I just can't help it. Curse you, Jesse st. James, and your awesome villainy!**

**COMING SOON: Blaine wakes up, Kurt gets captured, and Mike glows. **


End file.
